I know it has been a long time, but I have finally settled better into the new responsibilities of my job and feel ready to tackle some more writing. Thank you for everyone who favorited/followed in the interim. I appreciate that so much and reading your reviews. This chapter is a bit of a transitional one to set the stage for an even steamier one that should follow in a few days (the steam here is mostly just in Darcy's head).


Darcy's POV

37. Somehow I Have Still Gained Happiness Despite Everything I Have Done Wrong

As I stumbled from my wife's bed at nigh on four o'clock in the morning, evicted for trying to initiate the act a third time, I had neither anger nor resentment in my heart. How could I, given all of what we had experienced on this night together? As I lay in my cold bed, chasing sleep, I recalled recent events. I dwelt but briefly on the humiliation I had felt in hearing Elizabeth announce to my closest relatives how in Kent she had refused me.

I had seen (while Elizabeth had not) Georgiana's reaction. Georgiana had reared back and then looked to me to confirm or deny this report. I had given a slight nod. How could I deny the truth? I had not wanted her to know, but there it was.

I then, in my recollecting, skipped over to thinking about the carriage ride back to our home, the hope I had felt and then freely indulging in her kisses and more. I wondered if my wife knew how much restraint I had to exercise to not lift her skirts up and bury myself in her then?

My mind then flitted over to our conversation in her room, not so much the content of our exchange, but how it felt to gain such hope for our future felicity. But such recollections quickly fell away as I most warmly recalled being welcomed into her bed, and giving my wife pleasure. I could almost hear her moans of pleasure again, those special little sounds that belonged to me alone. The memory of how my lovely Elizabeth fully gave of herself to me was one that I would treasure always. But then there had been the concluding act of that interlude, in the end receiving my own pleasure too, with her arms and legs wrapped around me, urging me on. It was nothing like I had imagined it to be in all my fancying of what it would be like to have her for my own; it was far more.

True, I had known physical pleasure when initiated into the world of men by the skilled Marie, but while she spoke of her delight in me I knew it to all be false, to be simply what was expected, and yet previously I had asked my wife to act as Marie had, but to be a more skilled actress in convincing me of her sincerity. Elizabeth had not done that; that first time, on our wedding night she had held back even as she allowed me to impose on her. As rich as that experience had been for me (even though I knew I had been selfish, in chasing my own pleasure, not restraining myself to first give her, her own), I now knew how much better it could be.

I was so happy. I could not account for how I had been so blessed, given that I had gone about courting and proposing to her all wrong.

The difference between our consummation and what we had just shared on our second night as man and wife, was the difference, on the one hand, between looking cross-eyed at the reflection of the coal-smoke dirtied sky in the city as shown through a grimy window reflected in a cracked looking glass and, on the other hand, lying upon one's back at night outside in a grassy field in the country, staring up at the heavens, at the myriads of stars. On both occasions that person might have seen the sky, but only the second experience provided the full wonder possible.

My wife's cries of delight, her quivering, I was convinced these things were real. Now, having been with an enthusiastic wife, having given her ultimate delight, I could not imagine being satisfied by the simulacra. Oh, how glorious it had been to be with, within, the one that I loved as she welcomed me! All I wished to do was please her again.

The only thing missing was that Elizabeth did not love me, but knowing I could delight her, and in how she let herself be delighted, I thought it possible to gain her affections over time. For surely she was more comfortable with me, must like me a little now, and someday that liking might deepen into true affection and then love.

When I had contemplated forcing Elizabeth's hand, I had not dared to even dream of gaining her love. No, I had only dreamed of gaining the use of her body, of possessing her, of having more of her than any other could ever have. I had imagined engaging in the act so many different ways, had imagined her welcoming me to her bed for what I could do with and for her, out if gratitude for caring for her family, not because she had any interest in my mind, my heart. I had imagined not letting her know how much I cared for her, for I did not want her to know I had a heart, lest she enjoy trampling upon it, breaking it. I imagined expressing my affections only in the physical act.

But now everything was different, but I still wanted her just as much. Perhaps it was untoward of me to wake Elizabeth on that second night for a second round of the act when my yard roused me but I think I could hardly be blamed for wishing to indulge me and him when I had gone so many years without a woman's touch. But this was no ordinary woman that I craved, and wished to plunder again and again. This was the wife I had long desired yet despaired of ever having for my own, who by vow was mine and the only proper repository for my base desires. I had no intention of ever spilling outside of her again, not unless her health forbid it.

Also, had I not honestly told her when I proposed that I expected to be at her constantly? This was certainly true, so she could hardly not expect me to wish to indulge myself. After all, I was a healthy male in the prime of life with more than the usual vigor and she was so very desirable.

In having her cooperation, in wishing to earn her love, when I roused her from sleep a second time, hoping for the third time of the pleasure that night and she declined to voluntarily welcome me within her again, it was not a hardship to agree, to go, even if I would have rather had her again. For I knew that teaching her that I was not so boorish and demanding as I had acted in my proposal, that this might go far in leading to our eventual happiness.

I went to my own cold bed, closed my eyes and in vivid detail recalled every touch, every kiss, every sound she made as I gave her pleasure. Then I recalled how I had gained my satisfaction twice this night. I fell asleep with my hand grasped around my half-hard cock, recollecting to myself with gentle strokes what it felt to be within her.

When I awoke, part of me imagined that it was all a dream, for should not my anatomy have been satisfied for having spilled within her thrice in the past two days, and having frequently indulged myself before that? Yet I was hard again and she was just a door away from me. It was a great temptation to get up, cross that threshold and beg for her indulgence, or better yet to beg to give her pleasure, to worship at the well between her legs, to taste her again.

I wondered what my wife (my wife, how delightful those words were now!) would look like in the early morning light filtered through the curtains. I imagined throwing those curtains back and pulling the bedding off her, so that light might stream into the room and show me all of her. But even as I imagined all of this, I knew I should let her sleep, put off any attempts at further pleasure for either of us until at least the evening.

With the mussiness of sleep still upon me, I resolved that I should try to sleep some more. I pulled the bedding higher on my naked body, closed my eyes and even while I begged for sleep to claim me, indulged myself in imagining. Even while I lay abed, I could feel what it would be like to slip out of the covers, stand up and walk off to and then open and cross through the communicating door. I imagined slipping within her chambers silent as a thief, and then sliding unnoticed into her bed. I could I imagine wiggling closer to her until I was pressed against her backside, skin to skin. I imagined rubbing my morning hardness against the small of her back, begging her like a dog does (by placing its head under its master's hand) for petting.

In my imagining Elizabeth turned toward me, but rather than just caressing my flesh with her hand (which is all I could have hoped for from her, as I certainly would not have wanted to hurt her and dissuade her from the pleasures of the marital bed by making her sore), she pushed me back, onto my back, and then climbed upon me. As she did so, she said "Last night you rode me; this morning I shall ride you."

My fancy grew (as did my anatomy, aided by the gentle touch of my own hand). I imagined her sliding herself along my length, but pulling back before I could follow her wetness to its source. "Not yet, my love," she told me. "The rider decides how and when to ride." She then proceeded to torture me in a most delightful way, pressing her wet flesh against the side of him, occasionally letting end of him slide in just an inch or two before pulling back. But then, finally, in my fancy, she took me into her with such enthusiasm and cries of joy.

While I knew it was all false, just a fantasy in my own mind, my body believed the lie and within two or three minutes I broke the vow I had made too myself to save everything for her and spilled in my hand. It was not much, for I had not much to give, but after drying myself with a handkerchief, I dozed for some half an hour afterward, imagining myself lying sated in her bed.

When I finally roused for good, I summoned my valet and went about preparing for the day. However, I did not leave my room even when ready, for my ear was attuned to listening for Elizabeth's step.

A few minutes later, I heard my wife move within the adjoining room, tried to imagine what she was doing to get ready and at every little noise that might have been her opening her own door to the hall, sprang out from my door to investigate. I greatly wanted to be with her, but did not want to impose my company on her before she was ready to emerge from her room.

Twice I was disappointed, but the third time I opened my door, she was there. Oh what joy I gained when she consented to address me more familiarly, when she gave me leave to do the same, to call her "Lizzy!" As much as I had enjoyed all the physical pleasure we had shared, this little thing gave me much lasting delight.

I was well pleased that breakfast that morning was hearty and appropriate fare, for I had been mightily disappointed that on our first breakfast within the house we had to eat so simply. I did not mind for my own sake but for hers. It was not Mrs. Johnson's fault of course, for there had hardly been any prior notice of our arrival and precious little staff to obtain anything to prepare, but now, finally, my wife would get all she was due.

I hoped to put a little flesh on Lizzy's spare body, to return her to full health. It hurt me to see how she had suffered, been deprived, when I had done naught to aide her directly.

I burned with anger recalling how her uncle had failed to help the family beyond gaining Miss Lydia's freedom and returning to them a disgraced daughter. I did not understand how he could have left them suffer fatherless and deprived, unless somehow all of my funds had been needed to secure Miss Lydia's release. But were not those in trade to be skilled at negotiating everything? I shook my head, considering the words I might have with him when I met him someday and found him to have cheated his own family.

Although I wanted Lizzy to have everything she needed to be well, I also selfishly knew that I preferred more roundness in a woman's breast, thigh and bottom. Of course I loved Lizzy just as she was, but I knew it would be even more delightful to have bigger handfuls for my large hands.

My musings were soon put at an end by the unwelcome news that Miss Bingley and the others were in the outsiders parlor. I wanted very much to protect my dear wife from that snake in the grass, but I was also pleased with Lizzy's bravery and fortitude through the whole encounter.

Had Bingley been there with his sisters, I doubt I would have felt free to simply eject Miss Bingley after she pretended to faint, for he would have believed that her swoon was real, been genuinely concerned for her health and out of my love for him, I would have been kinder to her. But as he was not, I felt no need to do anything for Miss Bingley, to have any even temporary association with the woman who had deliberately attempted to wound my wife with barbed words.

It was no excuse that Miss Bingley did not know Elizabeth's status, that she thought herself to be insulting a servant or paid companion. A man's and woman's character ought to be judged by how he or she treats the lowliest among us. But if anyone had ever tried to teach such a thing to Miss Bingley, that lesson had evidently fallen upon deaf ears, or perhaps ears deliberately stoppered against learning such a thing.

I will admit I took some pleasure in seeing the Hursts drag Miss Bingley out, in hearing Mrs. Hurst humble herself and attempt to salvage my favor for herself. I doubted it was genuine, but I would not cast out Bingley's oldest sister based just on her association with the younger.

Once the siblings were gone, we resumed our breakfast and then with regret I separated from my wife, who had been claimed by the Countess's seamstress, and resolved to attend to my business matters. As I had not planned to remain in town long, there was much that needed doing. Additional staff needed to be hired, supplies obtained and my steward needed to be advised of all he should do in my absence. I wrote lists of what needed to be done and many letters of business.

While I was determined to join my wife as soon as she might be free and I had accomplished as much as I reasonably could in a morning, I dedicated myself to finishing business matters as quickly as I could without making any careless blunders. Still, my mind frequently wandered to thinking of her frequently (although most of the time not in regards to marital congress).

Most vexing was the fact that when I got to thinking of her, I accomplished nothing at all and was frequently obliged to begin whatever I had been doing prior anew. Yet these interludes were so pleasant that I could not banish them all away nor would I wish to do that. For I was dreaming of times in which I would have genuine affection from my wife, and not simply the marital act.

I imagined being at Pemberley with Lizzy as we both rode the estate, strands of her curly hair escaping from her riding hat (I did not know then, though I supposed I should have, that she was no horsewoman). Then I would shake off the fancy and devote myself to the next bit of work until I found myself caught up in the next fancy, which might be us in the library together, picking out books. Sometimes it would be the smaller London house library, other times the Pemberley one. We would then settle down to read side by side on a settee.

I also recall imagining us in Pemberley's family parlor, before a roaring fire as a winter storm raged outside. I had my arm about Lizzy as her face was pressed into the curve of my neck where it met my shoulder and a blanket ensconced us in further warmth. It was the sort of day that none would venture out to call, with the sort of night that after sharing pleasure we would remain entwined to share our heat beneath many layers of bedding.

I had just put this fancy away, had my head bent down as I wrote down some instructions for my stable master. Yet my ears were still so attuned for any sound that might be made by her, that the slight scrap of the door was enough to make me raise my head and turn.

There was Elizabeth at the door, even lovelier in her simple morning dress than in any of my musings. I rose and greeted her, liking how "Lizzy" felt upon my tongue and how "Fitz" sounded in my ear.

Elizabeth asked, "Fitz, would you wish to join me for the tea that Mrs. Johnson has prepared?"

I assented quickly, lept up leaving a sentence incomplete and narrowly escaped overturning my ink well. The fact that she had voluntarily offered to spend time with me meant much. We did not talk about anything of importance. Elizabeth told me about the gowns that were being made up and her realization that none of the shoes or slippers she had were of fine enough quality to go with them. She seemed embarrassed to admit to that, and mentioned that while she would gladly attend to the lack with her pin money, I had yet to give her any and she was not sure if she should visit a cobbler in London prior to being properly introduced to society by Ledy Henrietta.

As I was uncertain, either, I simply suggested, as I recall my mother had done when in a hurry, "We shall simply have the cobbler attend you here with an assortment of shoes and if none suit we shall commission some affresh for you. Now I am sorry to have neglected giving your pin money into your care, but for things like this I am happy to pay for all you should need. Keep your own funds for extra things you desire, you have no need to spend them on the wardrobe needed for your new station in life."

She smiled and said, "That is most generous of you . . . Fitz."

The small domestic act of her preparing my tea, of taking my cup from her hand, was so pleasant, gave me such pleasure that I stored it up as a miser might store up treasure. That half-an-hour interlude ended much too soon and by and by I was obliged to take my leave.

Later, when she came to show me her letter, in seeing her relief that I was no longer planning to review her correspondence, I wished to give her more and more things, for it was such a pleasure. If only we had received no further visitors that day but the cobbler. We should not have, with the knocker off our door!

But wishes are not reality, and we received first her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.